Sin City: Postcards from Maui
by bcampo
Summary: Nancy and Dwight and their quest for postcards


Sin City: Postcards from Maui

By Brian "The Vibrator" Campo

**Disclaimer: This is fan fiction.** Sin City and all of it's characters are owned by Frank Miller and I do not in any way contest that ownership. This story is in no way official and should not be taken as such. This is just my way of showing my affection for what is one of the best comics series of all time. If you haven't made a trip to the Town Without Pity, I suggest you do so soon.   
  
**Warning: **This story contains harsh language and adult situations. If you think your mom might drop a load of hurt on you for reading it, don't. Consider yourself warned. (knowing Miller's stand on cover advisories, that just felt wrong to write)   
  
  


"Do you even know where you are?" asked the fat Italian behind the counter. "Does this look like Maui to you?"   
"No reason to be an asshole." said Dwight "We just want to know if you have any postcards from Maui. If you don't, just say so." It was getting to be a very long evening. He and Nancy had stopped at just about every liquor store and cigar shop in Old Town, and so far they had nothing to show for it. Now, as he stood in this poorly lit little corner market, he asked himself once again, Why did I agree to this?   
"Basin City. That's the name of the town." said the fat man in a tone used for explaining simple things to idiots. " That's the name on all the postcards. You might even find a couple with the name Sin City on them. But there are no Maui postcards. If you want Maui postcards, you go to Maui."   
Dwight's hands were clenching into fists when Nancy said, "Come on, Dwight, let's get out of here." She pulled at his arm, and Dwight let her pull him out the door. He was tempted to go back in there and cold cock that rude son of a bitch. He hadn't even wanted to go in that shop in the first place, but Nancy had insisted. "We're running out of places to go." she had said.   
Rumor around Old town was that the guy was selling kiddy porn out his back door, and if Dwight ever saw proof of it, he would have capped the fat bastard without a second's hesitation. He didn't have proof though, and he had already learned that lesson. You didn't just act on what somebody told you, you had to wait and see the proof with your own two eyes. He was reminded of that lesson every time he looked in the mirror.   
Nancy let go of his arm once they were out of the shop, and hugged herself against the night chill. The summer was over, so it was just freezing cold nights ahead for the next six months. There was no spring or fall in Sin City, you either got blazing heat or frigid cold, there was no in between.   
"Hi, Dwight." said a hooker as she walked past with a well practiced swing to her hips. She was a lovely red head and wore a black vinyl dress which laced up the back.   
"Evening, Cindy." said Dwight. "How's business?"   
"Not bad." said Cindy. "I'm headed to see my next client right now."   
"Well, don't sell yourself short."   
"Bite me, Dwight. See ya around."   
Dwight laughed and turned to see Nancy staring at him with her arms crossed over her breasts and a perturbed look on her face. "Are you about through? Cause if you are, we have things to do." she asked.   
He grinned sheepishly and said, "Sorry." They walked down the block to where Dwight had parked his car. He was driving a 1958 Plymouth Fury at the moment, a big boat of a car that laughed at compact parking spots. The previous owner had cherried it out and chromed it to hell and back so it gleamed in Old Town's gaudy neon lights.   
Dwight opened the passenger door for Nancy, and then went around and got in on his side. The car turned over on the first try and he reveled in the sound the engine made. There was nothing that sounded as sweet as a finely tuned V-8. It sounded like a sleeping tiger, just two seconds from jumping into action.   
"So, you got any more ideas where we could get some postcards?" asked Nancy. She looked like she had had about all the fun she could handle for one evening.   
Dwight drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and looked up the street in front of him. This had to be the dumbest goddamn thing he had ever done. Why had he agreed to do this in the first place? They weren't going to be able to find any postcards from Maui in Basin. The bastard back there in the shop was right. If you wanted Maui postcards, you went to Maui. Still, favors were owed, and promises had been made. Dwight wouldn't be going to sleep tonight until he held a stack of postcards from Maui.   
"Maybe we could try some antique shops." said Nancy. "They might have some old hawaiian postcards."   
"I doubt we could find one open. Besides, they would probably already be written on, and we need blank ones." He drummed for a second more, and then stopped. "Duh! Where's my head?"   
"What?" said Nancy.   
"Hold on." Dwight dropped the shift down into drive and pulled out onto the street.   
"You mind telling me where we're going?"   
"Uptown, to the airport." They hit the on ramp to the freeway and left Old Town behind them.   
"What makes you think that any of the shops there will have Maui postcards?"   
"I don't, but I bet we can find some people getting off planes that have them."   
"This is going to be embarrassing, isn't it?"   
Dwight shrugged and said, "I guess I could break into an antique shop if that's what you want."   
"Ooooooh, no." said Nancy. "At least this is legal. I'm cold. Doesn't this thing have a heater?"   
"It takes a minute to get going. It'll warm up in a minute. Besides, the cold is doing wonderful things to your chest, Nancy."   
She gave him an icy glare and pulled her jacket closer around her. "You're an asshole."   
"Yep." said Dwight. After a minute, he said, "You know how he feels about you, right?"   
She didn't say anything for a while, so Dwight thought that maybe she hadn't heard him. He looked over at her out of the corner of his eye, and she was staring out the half fogged up window.   
"Yeah, I know." she said quietly. "He's a good man. He just wasn't my kind of man, that's all."   
"Remember that time at Kadie's when the guy came up and apologized for calling you a whore?"   
"Yeah, I remember. I didn't know what he was talking about."   
"He was running his mouth over at the bar, saying that all you dancers were sluts and whores and would do some pretty nasty stuff for a twenty. Marv got pissed and told him that if he didn't go tell you he was sorry, he would stick a beer bottle up his ass and break it off."   
Nancy sniffed and wiped at her eyes. "He was always such a sweetie."   
"Yeah. Sweetie. That's the word that pops into mind when I think of him."   
"You don't know him like I do. Every Valentines Day, I find a heart shaped box of chocolates sitting at my front door. I never see him bring them, but I can tell they are from him cause he leaves those big foot prints where ever he goes. Nobody has feet as big as Marv's."   
"He ever told you how he felt?"   
"No. I'm glad he didn't. He's so nice, I don't think I would have been able to tell him no. You know, that night that he left with that woman Goldie, I was so happy for him. I was thinking, Finally! He found someone! Then this whole mess started."   
Dwight reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, which he offered to Nancy. She thanked him and dabbed at her eyes with it, trying not to mess up her mascara.   
"He didn't always look like that." said Dwight. "All messed up in the face, I mean. He wasn't a bad looking guy in the old days. Too many fights and scuffles since then, but you might have thought he was handsome back in the day."   
Ahead of them, they could see a 747 leaving James Edward Roark International Airport., wing lights blinking red in the black sky. The free way angled out of the hills and back down into the valley. A sign announced that the airport was coming up in two exits, and Dwight left the freeway when they got to it. The parking lot to the airport was full and it took several minutes of circling before they found a place to park the boat.   
"It feels like it might snow." said Dwight as the made their way to the terminal. It didn't matter. It wouldn't be real snow. It would be dirty stuff, more brown than white, turned to filth, just like everything else this city touched.   
Nancy slipped a hand into the crook of his arm and he let her keep it there as they went inside.   
Dwight started asking travelers if they were coming from Maui. Some shook their heads, or said no. A few wanted to know why he wanted to know, immediately suspicious. A few told him to piss off, plain and simple. He began to get more and more frustrated.   
"It's ok. We tried our best, ok?" Nancy patted him on the shoulder.   
"It's not all right!" said Dwight. "I'm not leaving without some frickin' postcards." He spun around, looking for somebody to ask. "Look!" he shouted. "Have any of you been anywhere nice?!"   
A balding man walking with his family stopped and looked at him. "We just got back from Florida. Why?"   
Dwight quickly stepped over to him and said, "Really? Did you get any postcards?"   
"Look, Mister," said the man. "What is this about?"   
"Dwight." said Nancy. "Let me talk to him, ok?"   
Dwight put his hands in the air and backed away.   
"Please, sir. If you have postcards from Florida, we would be very happy if you would sell them to us. I can't tell you why, but it is very important."   
"This was our very first trip to Disney World and we wanted the postcards to show our friends."   
"Thirty bucks." said Dwight. Nancy tried to tell him to shush, but he ignored her. "I'll pay you thirty bucks for whatever you have."   
"I don't know." said the man, whose family was now staring at Dwight and Nancy like they were insane. "They are very important to us."   
"Fifty bucks." said Dwight. "Fifty bucks for some postcards you won't even remember you have in two months. What do you say?"   
The man turned to his wife with a questioning look on his face. She shrugged and he sat one of his bags on the ground. He unzipped the top and pulled out an envelope. "There are six of them." he said and held out his hand for the money.   
Dwight pulled out his wallet and opened it up. "Do you got change for a twenty?" he asked the man.   
Nancy elbowed him, and Dwight handed the man three twenties. "Thank you very much." Nancy told the man as she took the envelope from him. She glanced into the envelope and saw pictures of Epcot Center and Cinderella's Castle. "Let's go, Dwight."   
"That was the last of my money." he told her when they got back to the car. "So much for taking you out to coffee when we are all done."   
"I'll buy you breakfast." said Nancy and closed her door behind her.   
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up outside the massive walls of the Basin City Correctional Facility. Dwight killed the engine and sat back.   
"Are you sure you don't want to come in?" asked Nancy.   
Dwight looked at the high walls and barb wire and said, "No, thank you."   
He watched her get out and walk up to the main gate. His watch said it was 10:30, they still had a little time left.

"Hello, Marv." said Nancy as she sat down in the little booth opposite of him. His massive shoulders filled his booth and he had to squeeze to get close to the glass between them.   
"Hi. Did you get some?" he asked, his voice a quiet rumble.   
"The only thing we could find was Florida." she said. "I'm sorry."   
"That's ok, Honey. That'll work. Sure wish it could have been Maui, though. She always dreamed of going there, and would have got a kick out of it."   
One of the five guards in the room stepped up behind Marv and sat down the six postcards and a ball-point pen. Marv picked up the pen and looked at it for a second, and Nancy saw a very strange expression cross his face. He looked down right evil. She felt like a hand was squeezing on her heart, she was suddenly so scared. Until now, she hadn't quite accepted that Marv could have killed all those people, could never connect the Marv she knew to the killer that people were saying he was. She knew then, though. That look clinched it for her. A second later, the look was gone and he took one of the postcards and began to write on it.   
"I want you to send one of these every six months." he told her.

Half an hour later, Marv watched Nancy walk out of the room, wiping her eyes.   
"Ready to go back to your cell?" asked a guard.   
"Just a second." said Marv as he stared at the red lipstick impression on the glass in front of him. The door closed behind Nancy and he closed his eyes. He let out a big sigh and then got up to go back to his cell.

"Dear mom," Gladys read aloud, trying to imagine Marvin's voice saying it. "I'm sorry you haven't heard from me in a while, but I want you to know that I am doing well. This job I have here in Florida pays good and me and Goldie are happy. You would like her, ma, she's really nice and she takes good care of me like you always did. I'm remembering to take my pills all the time, and if I don't she reminds me. Don't worry about me, I'm ok. I'll write later, Love, Marvin"   
"He's always been such a good boy." she said and tucked the postcard into her scrapbook with the others. The last entry in the scrap book was a clipping from the local paper reporting an execution at the prison.   


* * *

  
Well, that's my best try, thanks for taking the time to read it. I hope I didn't offend any die hard Sin City fans, that was not my intention. As always, if you liked this story, you might like my others, check them out at my site, [Bad Monkey Comics!!!][1]   
If you have any comments or cursewords, e-mail me at [bcampo@hotmail.com][2] I welcome all comments and criticisms, but ask if you are going to tell me I suck, tell me why I suck (yeah, that sounded funny to me too.) 

   [1]: http://www.angelfire.com/or/bcampo
   [2]: mailto:bcampo@hotmail.com



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